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Do to me wot you will, you dirty dogs, I will never surrender. Soner will I die. "One crule brute hit him a blo on the lips and he sprang back, snarling with rage. In less time than wot it takes to rite this he had sprang at his torturer's throte and his teeth met in one mighty bite. His torturer dropped ded and lifless at his feet.
"Then, draining to the dregs a large bottle of poison he had concealed in his busum he fell ded and lifless at there feet." There was a timid knock at the door and William, scowling impatiently, rose to open it. "What d'you want?" he said curtly. A little voice answered from the dusk. "It's me Peggy. I've come to see how you are, William. They don't know I've come.
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